


The Elegance of The Parting Glass

by thingsishouldntbedoing



Series: The Elegance Of [7]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 05:21:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingsishouldntbedoing/pseuds/thingsishouldntbedoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always heard that losing someone felt like nothing… this felt like everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Elegance of The Parting Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I would listen to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q4egb2gpIg4) while reading this if I was you.
> 
> This was inspired by [this post](http://firtherton.tumblr.com/post/113227625476/eggsyunwinhart-but-what-if-at-harrys-wake). Find me on tumblr at [serahgalahad](http://jocunditea.co.vu)

His lips parted, taking in desperate puffs of cold air, as if he might somehow force life back into the cold body before him. Lips that sought to say words he didn’t have. How could he express how he felt? Could he? Ever? His lexicon wasn’t big enough, his world not deep enough, his heart not strong enough. There were no words for Harry Hart. Not words Eggsy knew.

 

**Of all the comrades that e'er I had**

**They are sorry for my going away**

 

He waited until he was the last one left, limbs stiff from standing beside the casket, and lifted his face to find Merlin standing near the back of the room. Merlin, face grim and stern, but with kindness in his dark eyes.

“Can I stay?” Eggsy said around the knot in his throat. “Wiv ‘im?”   
  
“Of course, Eggsy,” Merlin gripped his shoulder. If his friend’s hand lingered, squeezed, grounded him he didn’t say, merely pat his fingertips against Merlin’s wrist and turned away.

 

**And all the sweethearts that e'er I had**

**They would wish me one more day to stay**

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat, how long it took, nor did he care. He had stopped caring about the ache in his legs, the burn in his lungs, the way his hands shook when he lifted them to run them through his once-neat hair.

None of it mattered. Nothing mattered now. 

All the world had lost its color with Harry Hart gone from it.  
  
“I never got to prove you… I never got…” He had been strong all day, had sunk his nails into the palm of his hand to keep the tears at bay, but now he was alone… sitting in the utter silence of a funeral parlor with what once was his mentor.

His lips parted around breaths he wished would stop, too painful to be real, and stuffed his knuckles into his mouth to stifle the sob that shook his spine.  


As he broke down, inhaling choked air and exhaling when it was too painful to continue, a band tightened around his heart and left him curling into his knees - the heavy teardrops landing on his Oxfords like rain on a cold night.

 

**But since it falls unto my lot**

**That I should rise and you should not**

  
He’d never had the chance to tell him anything. Why should he be alive? Why should he be alive and Harry dead?

Oh _god_ he wanted to rip his chest open and pull his very heart out, as if that would stop the pressure, as if that would stop the agony that bled into his very bones and left him cold and burning.

“I loved you.” He said to the ground, releasing the words into the air. “I loved you so _fucking_ much.” They gave him comfort in the absence of sound, in the absence of anything but feeling.

And he felt so _fucking_ much.

He had always heard that losing someone felt like nothing… this felt like _everything_. This wasn’t the gaping, all absorbing hole that his father had left. That pain was dull and deep and only surfaced in the dark of the night. This was ever present and all encompassing and merciless. This stole his breath and brought him to his knees and clenched his muscles and had him screaming at the ground and pounding his fist uselessly against it as if he could change the rotation of the Earth with the strength of his tiny, worthless body.  
  
But that’s all he was.

Tiny. Insignificant. Lost.

 

**I'll gently rise and I'll softly call**

**Good night and joy be with you all**

 

Merlin found him the next morning, sound asleep on the ground beside Harry’s coffin, knuckles crusted with blood and tears dried on his face.


End file.
